Blood and Secrets 3 (The Calvetti Crime Family)

by Rose Harper

  All of this is because she had a dream? A nightmare? Fucking hell.

  Shouldering my way into the bathroom, I never once give her the attention she’s clearly looking for with a story like that one. Quickly showering and shaving, I make my way out of the bathroom, my narrowed eyes trained in on hers. Making my way past her, I gather the first suit I come across before tossing it on top of the bed.

  A blinking light on my phone alerts me to a text message. My face pinches in confusion when I note the phone is on my bedside table, instead of being in my coat. I don’t remember taking it out and I definitely don’t remember putting it there. Hell, I never put it there. It’s always on the table next to the chair in the corner. The same table I conduct most of my business from when I don’t want to leave the confines of my room.

  Instead of dressing, I pick my phone up and swipe across the screen. My hackles rise, and I refrain from widening my eyes at the plethora of texts Domino has sent me since last night. As a substitute of calling him back, I flick through them.

  The blood in my damn veins runs colder than ice.

  Dom: Your guest is a fucked-up character, my friend.

  Dom: Man, he’s freaking me the hell out. He hasn’t said a word since he came into the house. I don’t even think he’s moved. He’s just judging us. I feel like I should repent or something.

  Raising my eyes to Carina’s, I trail them over her body. Her muscles are loose, unguarded. She doesn’t have a single bit of fire in her this morning, which is in complete contrast to how she was yesterday, or even the day I went up to her room.

  Every single day, she has this blaze deep within her, exuding nothing but pure malice and mayhem. Yet, today, she’s tranquil—almost frighteningly so. This isn’t the woman I’ve come to know as one of the scariest individuals to walk through the underworld.

  She must see something in my gaze that worries her because she’s at my side within the blink of an eye. “What is it?”

  As dumbfounded as I am, the only thing I can say is, “I apparently have a guest waiting for me.”

  3

  CARINA

  “Just remember, it is our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light, baby sis. I love you.”

  That’s the last thing my brother ever said to me on the call that preceded his demise. You never think a phone call can change everything, but it can. His nightly phone calls gave me hope that I could make it through my lousy existence in that house. It gave me the drive to come out of it unscathed, ready to face the world with him by my side.

  Except, we never got the chance. My father knew what was happening—even when I thought I was doing my best to hide it from his prying eyes. He knew Luca and I kept in touch when he left. He knew we were communicating, and most likely, discussing how we were going to get me out of that house.

  My father ended it before anything could happen. He snuffed it out like a wisp of breath to the flickering flame of a candle. Only allowing smoke to stay behind in the aftermath of the fire.

  It was a mercy killing, something I didn’t want to do but was forced to. It’s a burden I carry with me everywhere, and until Mateo, it never bothered me that much because that fissure of time was successful in turning off my emotions. It gave me the fuel I needed for revenge. I worked harder, pushed myself in learning everything so I could use their training against them when the time came.

  Coming to a stop at the top of the stairs, I barely cringe when Mateo softly lays his hand at the base of my spine. I’m still getting used to people touching me without malicious intent. Up until Mateo, the only thing I related touching to was pain. It’s something that was familiar to me, and thus, making it seem normal. Only, it wasn’t. Not even close.

  The bastards I was forced to surround myself with at my old home treated pain as the only receptor someone like me is supposed to have. So, when Mateo touches me without it, it feels foreign, illicit.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  “I have a feeling I know who this guest is,” I say, bringing my eyes to him.

  “Carina. It is a coincidence. Now get it out of your head right now. Your brother is dead. You cannot magically dream him alive and expect it to come true. So, enough.”

  Tautness surrounds us so thick you could cut it with a knife the closer we come to the dining area. Just on the other side of those doors is a secret that I didn’t know I had in my closet of fuckedupness.

  The heel of my boots clacks against the floor as we come to a stop at the base of the stairs, and we turn to make our way toward the dining room. However, the moment Mateo removes his hand from my lower back, the urge to replace it is almost overwhelming.

  What am I going to do? How am I going to react?

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “No,” I answer, my breathing escalating.

  “Everything is going to be fine. It’s just a little guest. How bad could they be if they walk through the front door?”

  Bad. Any devil can be disguised while wearing sheep’s clothing. He’s just too trusting of his men.

  I want to scream, punch—do anything that will cause these tumultuous emotions to go away. I’m not used to them, and I don’t want them in any way associated with my person. I need to be the cool, calm, and collected Reap that everyone knows and fears.

  When Mateo rests his hand on the door, it seems like everything slows around us. Pure silence envelopes us, and the only thing that can be heard is our labored breathing. He’s just as nervous as I am, and with good cause. There’s a person in this house he knows nothing about. A guest who seems to be anything but welcome.

  Turning the knob, Mateo guides me inside before him. Multiple faces turn upward to greet us. Two new faces I haven’t seen before glare back at me. They must be the new bodyguards whom Mateo just hired at his father’s request. However, I can’t get their beady-eyed gaze out of my head as they look at me with equal parts disgust and loathing. They’ve been given nothing but stellar reviews over their effectiveness to keep their charge safe, but I don’t trust them a bit. Even though this is the first time I’m meeting them, I can tell they’re going to be nothing but trouble.

  Next, my eyes come to rest on his brother. They’re all wearing stoic masks on their faces, while they systematically try to stay still in their seats. The tension in here almost chokes me from its density. It’s clear they aren’t comfortable in here, and that solidifies my answer as to who is sitting at the table without even looking in their direction. I can feel the unease rolling off them in waves.

  Inhaling deeply, I slowly raise my eyes from them, settling my attention toward the last remaining individual. But what I see has my mouth falling open in shock. There, at the head of the table, sipping what looks to be black, bitter coffee is … What? I really must be seeing things.

  4

  MATEO

  This. Cannot. Be. Happening.

  Of all the days for this person to show up, he chose today. Everything is such a damn mess, and I’m practically swimming up to my eyeballs in problems galore. I don’t have time to add this to my plate. Don’t have the patience to sift through his millions of questions and fake sympathies for losing my brother.

  I don’t have the strength to keep Carina from killing him when she finds out who he is and what his true reason is for being here.

  This should be fun.

  “Father Avery!” I boast, stepping away from Carina.

  Father Avery is our parish priest. He’s the same man who christened every one of my brothers and my father as well. When I called the papa during that idiotic drunken stupor with Camille, he assured me he would send the best man out to officiate my marriage. It didn’t matter that I was drunk off my ass and asking about the wrong slit. All he cared about is the fact the eldest son of his major benefactor needed a priest to officiate a wedding.

  “Mateo, my boy!” Father Avery jovially calls back, standing up from his seat in full dress. Jesus, he’s come prepared.

  There hasn’t
been a time I’ve seen him without this. Because all six times I’ve seen him in my life, he was either christening a newborn in the Calvetti family or officiating a wedding ceremony. My family is religious; we just don’t have the time to go to mass every Sunday. Instead, we have businesses to run and people to torment if they don’t hold up their end of the bargain.

  “Mateo?” Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Why is there a priest in your dining room?”

  Quickly meeting Domino’s eyes, I see the merriment swirling within his irises. Giving him a mental middle finger in the form of narrowed eyes, I relax my face and turn toward her.

  How are you supposed to tell someone like Carina—who is against any type of marriage—that the priest is here to marry her off to the dumbshit that called the papa? You can’t. The only thing I can do is stand there silently staring at her, expecting her to come to a conclusion on her own.

  But does she?

  No.

  “Is he here for Vinny?” she asks, causing the urge to slap a palm to my face to grow.

  “Yes, and no,” I reply, hearing a deep-seated chuckle trail from down the table.

  “What do you mean—yes and no?”

  “What I think he means—”

  I clear my throat loudly, and the sound effectively cuts Domino off. The fucker really wants to die, doesn’t he? That’s the only possible explanation as to why he keeps opening his goddamn mouth.

  “Dom. Enough,” I seethe.

  “Oh, Mateo, cut the little tyke some slack,” Father Avery chuckles out. “I’ll answer the little darling anything she asks.”

  Dear God, no! Tunneling my hands through my thick, wavy hair, I start cataloging everything in my possession for my immediate demise.

  Carina is going to kill me.

  She’s going to wrap those slender, nimble fingers around my neck and choke the life out of me.

  You know, now that I think about it … that particular part doesn’t seem so bad. That is if I’m balls deep inside of her when I finally bite the dust. If that’s the case, I’ll die a happy man.

  “You see, dear, I’m here to pray with these gentlemen over the loss of someone dear to them. I want to help them ease the burden of his passing.”

  “That doesn’t seem so bad,” she murmurs, shifting from foot to foot.

  Something tells me Carina was all too truthful when she explained she didn’t believe God exists. It’s manifested in a way that has her looking uncomfortable in the presence of a man of the cloth.

  “I’m also here because Mateo is to be wed,” Father Avery goes on, his explanation equal to a signature on my death certificate. “In families like this, we like as much discretion as possible. Hope you don’t mind? May I presume you are the lucky bride?”

  The air sucks out of the room at his statement. Many of the men shift in their seat, exuding their level of unease as I fight to stay on my feet. How can he just spit it out like that? Like the weight of his words isn’t threatening to crumble my entire world?

  Tugging at my suit jacket, I fidget, knowing every person in this room is staring at me right now. I know Carina is because I can feel her eyes burning a hole right through me.

  It’s not that I’m embarrassed about Father Avery coming to marry me off. It’s the situation that brought this all on. My idiotic moment of stupidity at allowing alcohol to speak for me.

  “A we-wedding?” she stammers. “Bride?”

  “Yes, dear. As in ‘here comes the bride,’” he gushes, clasping his hands excitedly.

  “Father Avery,” I warn, keeping my voice low and tight.

  It’s as if the thrall from the upcoming wedding falls away as he glances between us, forehead furrowing in confusion. His hands unclasp, falling down by his side. Finally. He’s getting it. The tension in the room, the death glares that Carina keeps tossing my way. It’s like it all finally clicks.

  “Did you know about this, dear?” he asks with a worried expression.

  I expect her to out me to the priest. I expect her to scream, yell, and claw at my eyes for putting her in this position. Yet, the only thing she does is stand there with a stoic look on her face. Well, as blank as she can muster. Her eyes are still spitting fire my way, and her hands clench down at her sides, readying themselves for a fight.

  “No, I can’t say that I did.” Her eye ticks in irritation, and I can’t say that I blame her. This entire situation is frustrating as hell.

  The priest balks at her frosty retort. But then … then he fucking explodes! And I have no idea why.

  “A-Are you sure?”

  Releasing a huff, she replies, “I’m pretty damn sure I’d know if I was marrying someone.”

  “Then why …” he releases, his mouth like that of a fish as he tries to gather himself. “Why did I bring him out of the mission then?! Oh, my Lord!” He closes his eyes, thumbs his rosary, and starts mumbling over a prayer for healing, strength, or some shit. “This is bad. This is so bad. We need to leave!”

  In a flurry of movements, faster than I ever expected a man of his age to move, he’s darting out of the dining room, leaving all of us dumbfounded as the last thing to leave the room is his ceremonial robe. My eyes drift over to my brothers, seeing the same expression resting on their faces as mine. They’re confused, and rightfully so. Why did the priest freak out like that?

  It isn’t until Carina starts running after him that I break out of my reverie. I wrap my fingers around her arm, jerking her back toward me to keep her from leaving. She will only make things worse if she runs after him. I’m already going to be hearing it from the papa, and more than likely my father. I don’t need to add insult to injury.

  Pulling her back to me, I’m shocked as shit when she maneuvers herself behind me, twisting me around, so my back hits the wall right next to the door. Her hand ghosts around my throat, not in a threatening way, just in a way that will make me stop and pay attention to her. If it were anyone else, I’d have already dropped them where they stand. But since it’s her, she tends to get away with a lot more than other people I surround myself with.

  “Did you just hear what he said?!” she screams.

  “Yes,” I say. “He’s embarrassed because he thought you were going to be my wife, and he made a complete and utter fool out of himself.”

  “No,” she sizzles, narrowing her eyes. “He brought someone with him! Someone we did not know was coming. I may be in shock over the whole wedding shit, but I’m not stunned enough to forget what my purpose is. I’m going to skin that priest alive because he put this house at risk.”

  What?! She can’t kill a motherfucking priest!

  “Are you crazy?!” I roar, chucking her off me.

  Looking back over her shoulder, she orders my men to get moving, “Dom, Gavino, Lucio, stop that goddamn priest! Now!”

  I expect them to balk at her statement. To refrain from helping her in her endeavor to rid the world of a holy man. But to my utter surprise they relent—fast. They’re all out of their seats before she brings her eyes back to mine. I see the confusion, worry, and fury swirling in her hazel eyes. Her forehead furrows, eerily similar to the priest as the pent-up rage rolls off her in waves.

  “You were just going to let him leave? Are you fucking crazy?!” she roars, baring her teeth.

  “Says the woman who thinks killing a priest is fucking rational,” I snap back.

  It’s either she doesn’t get it, or she’s not worried about the repercussions of taking out a man of the church. Many people think the papa is a well-balanced, spiritual man who speaks of nothing but religion and strolling through the gates of heaven after you die.

  It’s not.

  The papa is as much of a bad guy as I am, except he’s much worse. He’s the epitome of fierceness and fucked up. You take a hit against one of his own, and he fires back times ten. He takes what he wants when he wants it. Doesn’t take no for an answer. And when you put a call in to him, he makes it happen. Regardless if you muddle up on your side.

&
nbsp; She’s messed up in the head if she thinks I’m going to allow her to do something like that; to paint a target on my familia’s back. Bullshit. She better get her freaking act together before I force her to.

  “Mateo, he brought someone here we did not clear. Don’t you get that?”

  Fury sweeps through me, the flames of it whipping higher and higher the longer I stand here and gaze down at her innocent face. Because, when placed side by side with the papa, she is a sweet, innocent little girl. She has no idea the shit she stirred up by acting the way she did.

  “Let me explain this to you very carefully, Carina. If you don’t play along, this could be both our heads here. The man that you want to kill? He works for someone who is far worse than I am. You will do well to remember to tread lightly when around anyone like Father Avery, or you risk signing your own death certificate.”

  “He doesn’t scare me,” she exclaims as a ruckus sounds from outside the door.

  Pointing toward the door, I grind low in my throat, “He wouldn’t. But if you knew the papa, you’d get on your goddamn knees right now and beg for forgiveness for disrespecting someone he considers a close, personal friend.”

  “No! You can’t do this! We must leave right now! It’s not safe for him here!” Father Avery shouts.

  Stepping away from Carina, I focus my eyes on the catastrophe happening before me. The once regal, put-together priest is now fighting tooth and nail to get away from Gavino and Lucio. Dom walks into the room, hand worrying on the back of his neck, as he continues to stare at the ground. His eyes briefly meet mine but don’t hold the connection as he makes his way over to his seat once more. The once playfulness playful expression he wore is now gone—disappearing without a trace.